


The Classic Idea

by tadstrangerthings



Category: Penguins of Madagascar
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, classic spy setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadstrangerthings/pseuds/tadstrangerthings
Summary: “Skipper! I need you to kiss me right now!““What?”Despite being a bunch of crackpot agents, ready for anything and everything that the world could throw at them, be it torture, babysitting, or that one tenant that poisoned people who made him mad, it could not be denied that they had a specific scene. A niche, if you will.Nobody could really define what that scene was, but, god, you’d know it if you saw it.Closer to the point, their scene was not that classic idea of a secret agent, full of fast cars and lavish dinner parties and weirdly formal clothing.And yet, here they were."Based on @drawbauchery's human au.
Relationships: Private/Skipper (Madagascar)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	The Classic Idea

## “Skipper! I need you to kiss me right now!“  
  


## “What?”  
  


Despite being a bunch of crackpot agents, ready for anything and everything that the world could throw at them, be it torture, babysitting, or that one tenant that poisoned people who made him mad, it could not be denied that they had a specific scene. A niche, if you will.

Nobody could really define what that scene was, but, god, you’d know it if you saw it.

Closer to the point, their scene was not that classic idea of a secret agent, full of fast cars and lavish dinner parties and weirdly formal clothing.

And yet, here they were.

Skipper was staring into space as he zipped up Private’s dress as that was the safest option for the both of them, considering such things, like how he’d gotten to this point in his life, and still debating about whether or not confiding your secrets in your closest nemesis was a bad idea if he was going to do the same.

And while Private tied his tie, Private considered how he was practically born into a life of espionage and was somehow still bad at it, whether or not he’d be more or less conspicuous in a dress, and how hard it was to tie a Windsor’s knot.

A well of insecurity and anxiety seemed to radiate off of them, but in that cool way where they’re just kind of like that, as Skipper patted Private on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs up after zipping up his dress and Private beamed up at him after tying his tie.

The height of casual anxiety, indeed they were.

What made it worse, or better, based on what their plan was, was that none of them looked like they were dressed for the same event.

Skipper wore a basic black tux, Kowalski wore a white tux, generally acceptable, but boring and blasé if not for how they pulled it off. Could belong at some wedding if Skipper could look any more bored.

Private was wearing a short pink dress he’d gotten from Julien and Rico looked more like the slacker stoner teen at prom than anything else.

Luckily, given that their plan was to pretty much separate as soon as they got to the party, it would be a piece of cake.

Two weeks ago, HQ had sent a notice about the fact that they needed their best and brightest field agents to comb the grounds of this party…But they were all busy, and so this note was passed down to them.

They had no idea who was hosting the shindig, or what they may be looking for, but man. Wouldn’t it be nice to know.

It wasn’t their thing, really, but, doing a job that nobody else was super into doing, wasn’t that kind of their thing? And besides. Even if they’re not considered elites among HQ, for whatever reason, a first class mission like this had some first class perks, like the car the agency left for them, which Rico called dibs on driving to and back, despite not knowing where they were going. Luckily, Kowalski was able to snatch the keys from him before they learned the full capacity of Rico’s road rage in something that wasn’t a $2000 coupe.

As Rico claimed shotgun, Private and Skipper sat together in the back seat, Skipper’s eyes facing straight ahead, but Private’s out the window, into an almost invisible horizon at this time of night.

“Okay, so here’s the plan.” Skipper began, pulling a map out of the top pocket of his suit coat. “Kowalski was able to acquire a map of the grounds…Grounds…Grounds is such a rich person word. It’s dumb. I hate it.”

“Skipper, the plan.” Kowalski reminded.

“Right, right. We have a map of the house. We enter in 5 minute intervals between each other, so we can’t be traced back to each other as easily. Kowalski, you’re going to the library and observatory.”

“Yes! Skipper, you have given me a gift.”

“Rico, you’ll be stationed near the kitchen and bathrooms.”

Rico shrugged, as if Skipper didn’t already know he was going to rob those chefs blind of their tiny appetizers and even smaller entrees.

“Private, you handle the coat room, sitting room, and closets.”

“Right.”

“And I’ll handle the bedrooms.” Skipper said. “So we’re all in agreement?”

Private raised his hand, with an apparent query in mind.

“Yes, Private?”

“Who in the world has a coat room?”

“Who has an observatory in their home?” Kowalski shrugged.

“Rich people.” Skipper grumbled. “If we’re all in agreement, when all of this is said and done, you want to come back to throw bricks at their windows?”

“T-Time and place, man. T-time and place.”

And so, they executed their plan, just as Skipper said they would. First Rico, then Private, then Kowalski, and then Skipper himself.

Kowalski was anxious about the idea of having the same car drive up, drop someone off, and drive away for 5 minutes four times over, but the fact of the matter was that nobody was really paying attention, because there was no reason to. They were not as obtrusive as they normally were. They had no reason to garner suspicion. They blended in.

They were professionals.

For once in their lives.

And as Skipper parked the car in a nearby restaurant’s parking space, he couldn’t help but think about what the evening would have in store for them. Enter mansion, search for hostages or secret passwords or weapons or whatever sort of villainy may be oozing behind those gold framed windows, exit mansion, pursued by bear. The dinner party scene was dreadfully tired, and he knew every trope in the book the sinister party planner could throw at him. That wasn’t their fault, of course. He’d just been around the block far too many times.

Nothing this night could throw at him could faze him, surely.

…Probably.

When Private had heard that he was finally going to have that empirical secret agent experience that his dear Uncle Nigel told him of when he was quite young, he was rather enthused by the idea. Sure, he didn’t know how many eyes he’d catch by simply walking into the room, or how many hands he’d grab in suspicious positions in proximity to his personhood, but, hey, he may have been Private, but he was Private, First Class. 

All he had to do was walk among the tiny rooms of the house, and if he didn’t find anything, he didn’t find anything.

And yet, the pressure was on.

This was his first mission with the supposedly charming spy life his Uncle had romanticized, and yet, there was something about it that made his skin crawl. Maybe it was because of the noise, it was too loud everywhere all the time. Maybe it was how suspicious it would look to find him poking around where he didn’t belong. Maybe it was the fact that, although these were the missions he was pitched, these weren’t the missions he signed up for. Who was to say at this point what was the true source of his anxieties? He didn’t know, that’s for sure, and that meant nobody else really needed to know either.

As Private wandered into another bedroom, he resigned himself to a search of the closet. He doesn’t know exactly why Skipper gave him the smallest nooks and crannies to search, but maybe it was for those exact reasons. The faster he got done, the faster he could leave. Maybe pick up a pizza and hang out with Marlene for a few hours, why not? She should still be up.

The closet looked to be empty, outside of a few golden wire hangers and the weird amounts of dust and hair on the ground. This must’ve been a guest bedroom, not that he could tell, based on the fact that every other bedroom, and there were others, looked the exact same.

Private slammed the main door to try to permeate the noise from downstairs, but it permeated through, regardless. The sounds were growing to be grating, and Private could have sworn he was moments away from a legitimate breakdown, and the very idea of such a thing frightened him, which only served to fuel his anxieties even more.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He went into the small, dark closet and closed the door, sinking to the floor. Thankfully, it muffled the sound, but it also meant he’d be able to finish up his assignment without disappointing the team. The last thing he wanted to be was the weakest link, but he was, basically by default. Not doing what was asked of him would only make this disparity in skill and rank even more apparent, and everybody would know. Everybody already knew, but this would just make everything so much WORSE. He didn’t know how, but he didn’t need to. It was apparent. It was inherent.

He felt himself begin to cry, but, this whole episode of emotional lapses felt more of an inconvenience than anything else. Surely he could schedule this for later, right? We could do this later, right?

It seemed it would be sooner than he thought as he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, light peering in. Not from the crack underneath the door. That light was warm and bright. This light felt dangerous and shined a dangerous seeming green. It looked as if it was…Emanating from the left corner of the wall, as if it wasn’t actually a part of the wall, given how it slanted. It must’ve been a door. The light had to have come from somewhere.

Of course he wouldn’t have noticed it when the light was on! The glow was far too low to be apparent in bright lighting, and Private felt a surge of happiness at this, before he remembered he’d probably have to figure out what was behind the door in the first place.

He pulled his phone out of a hidden pocket in his dress, and began to record what was in front of him, as he got as low to the ground as he could and pushed slowly on the door, with great hesitation, as the flash of green grew brighter, and as his eyes adjusted, revealed a long hallway, full of blueprints and Tesla coils and beakers and the like that glowed and bubbled and fizzed violently. The green never went away, and it never felt any less malicious.

Private - unarmed, unmanned, unprepared, and every other un-word he could think of at the moment- felt rather unsafe and uneasy at the idea of actually wandering through this rather sinister looking laboratory, but surely a badly lit video of the entrance and blueprints wouldn’t be so bad, right? They could work with this, right? Surely they could.

They’ve worked with less.

Skipper doesn’t know about the others, but he’s certain that it would’ve been a better use of time for all of them if he told them to get sloshed on the company’s dime, because he’s finding nothing.

Oh, sure, he’s found out that there’s a lot of confidential things going on at these sort of dinner parties, but it’s more of the infidelity ilk than it is doomsday weapons and ray guns. At least he understands how those work, and what he’s supposed to do when he walks in on them.

At this point opening a closed door is just asking for trouble, but, he was the one who planned this, and he has to be thorough. At least this was the last room on his list, then he could hit up one of the local sports bars and try to bleach from his memory the things he’s had to see tonight. None of which has been a doomsday device, much to his disappointment.

However, behind this door, he only sees a fancy musty bed, a window, and a slightly ajar closet door. He closes the door behind him, and jumps when it moves, startled.

The person inside the closet jumps too.

“You scared me!” Private accused, holding his phone in two hands, still clearly shaken. Skipper sighed in relief.

“Nice to see you too, Private.” Skipper said. “Find anything?”

“Yes!” Private’s eyes shined and Skipper could practically feel himself having a heart attack. “There’s something in the closet, there, like…An actual room, with plans and beakers and chemicals and those swirly things Kowalski likes, I have it all on video!” He gestured to his phone.

Skipper pumped a fist. “Nice! At least we’ll have something to show HQ.” Private gave Skipper the phone, for better safe-keeping than a hidden pocket would provide.

“You weren’t able to find anything?”

“Ehhh….” Skipper trailed off. “Nothing important, just rich people getting their rocks off.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. Yeah…” Skipper said, clearly uninterested in the conversation as he slowly approached the door he had entered through, pressing an ear up against it.

“What is it?” Private whispered, a little confused.

Skipper listened quietly and intently as he heard urgent footsteps coming their way a distant voice saying, “I told you to guard this one-“ That was all Skipper heard before a pang of panic hit him.

“Someone’s coming our way.”

This was a perfect time for the anxiety attack to hit Private.

“What!?”

“I don’t know if they’re coming exactly our way, but I don’t know for certain they’re NOT.” Skipper said, closing the closet door, and approaching Private the same way one would a wounded animal. Private felt his palms begin to sweat, his heart was racing, he thought he was going to cry. They looked suspicious as hell, being somewhere they weren’t supposed to be, together.

…

Or were they?

They needed to be people nobody would pay any attention to. They were only as suspicious as they let themselves be. They just had to blend in.

“Skipper! I need you to kiss me right now!“

“What?” Skipper said, more confused than he had ever felt in his life, his cheeks growing hot in the millisecond he was given to process before Private kicked the back of his knee with the heel of his foot, snaked his arms around his neck, and pulled Skipper into a kiss.

Skipper panicked. He understood doomsday devices. He could not understand this for the life of him, but he’s sure he could learn, given how quickly he closed his eyes, leaned into the kiss, and let his hands wander to Private’s ass, which caused him to jump during the kiss. This somewhat knocked them off balance, but in the best way possible, as Skipper twisted in a weird way, ending up with Private on top, straddling him, causing their kiss to break.

Skipper felt like dying right now, but, as those footsteps echoed in his mind, and louder within his ears, he knew he’d be a dead man if he gave up the charade now, so he pulled Private in by the the straps of his dress and kissed him once more, earning himself a surprised squeak for it.

He felt Private’s nimble fingers pull at the buttons of his suit jacket, unbuttoning each one by one, and although he supported the effort, given that he wrapped his arms around him, he was a little anxious about the thought of how far he’d be willing to go to throw off suspicion. What if this was what made Private figure it out? After all this time too?

And given how his mouth felt on his, did he really care?

Of course, such a splendorous moment had to end, as the doors swung open and both men did literally everything they could in their power not to literally jump at the sound.

“Oi! Privacy please!” Private yelled, the blush from his face being born of pure actual embarrassment, as his voice cracked.

The head servant - Skipper assumed he was in charge based on the fact that he was the one who had opened the doors - at the very least the gall to look a little flushed, but this did nothing for his resolve. “I’m sorry ma’am, but you two will have to take your…activities elsewhere. Will you please exit the room and vacate the premises?”

Private shuffled awkwardly off of Skipper as he re-buttoned his suit jacket and straightened a notably askew tie. He only missed a button here or there given how his hands shook, and he considered that in of itself an achievement as he took Private by the hand, and left the servants to their work, not before yelling, “I guess this means I, Dr. Francis Blowhole and my lovely partner Hans are just never allowed back, huh?”

“Was that really necessary?” Private asked, as the two of them walked together on the sidewalk, 5 blocks away from the mansion they put so much effort into invading.

“I couldn’t resist.” Skipper smiled, and he almost burst out laughing then and there. 

Private sighed, but his smile was soft. He wasn’t really angry, in fact he was almost euphoric. He had gotten to kiss Skipper! And Skipper kissed him back! More than once! He’d gotten to unbutton his suit jacket! He got to feel Skipper’s arms around his neck! Oh, it was such a dream…He’d kill for another evening like this one.

But then he remembered his line of work.

He remembered that Skipper and him did this under life and death pretenses. He didn’t even ask him before he really did it, he just went along with it. Probably because he didn’t have any better plans.

But despite everything telling him otherwise, he still had something that might have said otherwise.

“Are you alright?” Skipper asked. “You got really quiet all of a sudden.”

“Oh no! It’s nothing!” Private said, gesturing with his one free hand.

The one that Skipper wasn’t holding.

“That’s good. I wanted to make sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier.” Skipper said, scratching at the back of his head with his one free hand.

“Oh no, I’m fine. Did I make you uncomfortable? I was the one who, uh, started the whole-“

“No, it was a brilliant plan.” Skipper said, emphatically. “You made a split second decision based on applying previous information. Sure, it was information I just told you, but, I didn’t think of it…”

Private let out a sigh in relief. “We’re just lucky we were able to pass as a couple so well, I don’t know how I’d do with Rico or-“

“Maybe we should always pretend to be couples. For missions like these,” He added. “We’d be able to investigate together, I’m sure we both missed things all things considered, and the fake out make-out seems like it could be an effective way of derailing suspicion.”

“Not to mention that we’d be able to have each other’s backs in any possible combat situations.” Private added helpfully. “I would’ve probably made it to the main laboratory if I knew I wasn’t going to get murdered the minute I entered the main wing.”

“Good point. At least that’s HQ problem now.”

“Still, it seems like the fake romance holds some water in some future co-op situations. Would Hans really attack us if it LOOKED like we were on a date?”

“He WOULD,” Skipper laughed, “and YOU know it.” Private began laughing too, and soon they were both laughing like mad men, in the streets, on their way to the closest sport’s bar to grab a pizza, surrounded by thousands of shining stars, both completely convinced that the other sees this as the perfect strategy, both completely oblivious.

**Author's Note:**

> (The LONGEST fanfic I’ve written ever at 3K, and it’s for the human versions of the cartoon penguins I watched when I was 10. Go figure, y’all, dreams really do come true.)
> 
> drawbauchery.tumblr.com


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